Wrong Turn
by ThatSassAngel
Summary: Some people say that little decisions don't make a difference, but in reality the smallest decision can make a huge difference. Even if you don't know right away.


**So this is kind of a test story. Short, a tad rushed. Just a forewarning.**

Shivering against the freezing wind as it cut across my face, I pulled my coat a little tighter and used my head as a sheild from the wind. I blinked the tears from my eyes that the strong wind had influenced. The aroma of coffee was still in the air, probably from a shop that had just closed. Coffee sounded good right now. It was almost ten at night and the only thought in my head was about getting back to the flat. The day was very long, making me run around like crazy everywhere. All that myself yearned for was to lay down in my warm, cozy bed with my covers wrapped around me. I imagined the smell that lingered in my flat, a warm welcoming smell of cinnamon that my flat carried since first moved in.  
I shook my head to clear the thoughts of home until I got there. Wishing for it isn't going to get me there any quicker.

Looking around and shielding my eyes with my hand from the wind, I saw an alleyway to my left. I have no idea what it would be called to British people. I just moved to the UK and it's really odd for me to adjust. It's almost like another language compared to what was spoken in America. It was too different and slightly overwhelming.

Deciding the alley should take me closer to my destination I turned to walk down it. The wind wasn't as harsh here because the buildings acted as my protective shield. It was a little darker here though because of the lack of street lamps. My eyes adjusted quickly making it able to move without tripping over anything. I focused on quick movements of my eyes to try and keep the paranoid part of my brain from popping up. I silently hummed a song to myself. Any noise kept the paranoia from popping up. Unless it was a scary noise.

Continuing down the alleyway and listing for other noises such as small animals, but to my disappointment none were heard. I sighed, still feeling completely out of my depth. It's always weird moving everything is just so foreign. Considering I moved to a different country it's even more of a foreign feel. Well duh, I mean it is a different country.

"Stop it brain!" I mumbled out loud by accident.

I was about to turn a corner when a fast moving shape appeared around the corner almost out of nowhere. With no time to react the shape slammed into me. Okay check, person not shape. I was knocked off my feet onto the ground and the person who ran into me landed with an 'Oof' slightly on me.

"Get off of me!" I shouted and pushed the stranger off of me. I regretted shouting because i'm trying to be polite to the people here, but in the surprise of the moment I didn't think about how I was going to respond.

The stranger stood up. I couldn't make any features because it was dark. Just the silhouette of the stranger.

"American interesting..." The stranger mumbled as if he was taking notes on me.

"Yea, what about it?" I grunted and pushed my self onto my knees, flinching at the slight pain in my shoulder. The stranger seemed to notice that I was trying to get up because he offered his hand. I swatted it away, still frustrated by his carelessness. I pushed myself to my feet, which hurt my shoulder worse. I stood up fully and dusted myself off. I could slightly make out face features, including the annoying fact that he was watching me.

"What?!" I snapped, surprised at my mood. I've been polite since I arrived here but somehow I was pushed over the edge by this event. Maybe I was just tired though.

"Nothing, it's just..." He started before getting cut off by a shout in the distance.

"Sherlock!" The shout said, and the stranger's head snapped up towards the corner. Another figure came around the corner. Assuming by the voices they were guys. I hope I wasn't in trouble. The second figure stopped and leaned over trying to catch his breath. He looked up and then seemed to notice me for the first time. "Who's that?"

"Apparently I picked the _wrong_ place to cut through." I muttered under my breath.

"New to town, just moved in. American. She's lost and out too late, in her opinion. She's nervous about this place, well obviously seeing she just moved in, and doesn't wear enough deodorant," The first guy explained to his friend. I could make out him pinching his nose and waving his arm like he was warning off a bad scent.

"Hey! I've had a long day," I snapped at him, "And how did you know that?"

"First off you wandering out this late at night and cutting through this place. That obviously shows you're lost and just wanting to get home. When you spoke I heard that you're American, so considering that you're lost and American it's only obvious that you just moved in and are new to town. If you were visiting you most likely wouldn't go anywhere without whoever you were visiting this late." I hope he couldn't see my jaw dropping at his explanation.

"Sherlock! Did he get away?" The other guy asked impatiently.

"Yes. Unless you saw anything?" He asked. It took me a minute to realize he was asking me.

"Uhhh no s-sir," I stuttered trying to think if I saw anyone.

"Great. We lost him." The second guy said, throwing his hands up in desperation. I just stood there and shuffled my feet, wondering if I should just walk away. None of this involved me. Actually, I should walk away.

The second I turned to walk the other way I felt hands on my shoulder. I was turned around and was face to face with the first guy. At least I think it was.

"There are many things that happen that we don't pay attention to. We see strange things out of the side of our vision but we choose to ignore them if they don't relate directly to us. Any time walking towards this place did you notice, even if you didn't acknowledge it, anything that seemed out of the ordinary at all? Close your eyes and think." He whispered in a fast paced tone.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I thought back to when I was pulling my coat tighter and adjusting it against the wind. I remembered out of the corner of my eye a black shape. Just a quick blur passing quickly. My eyes snapped open.

"Yes. I did see someone." I stated, sure that I did.

The guy stood up quickly and looked like he was enjoying this. He looked down the alley and looked like he was going to take off. Then he turned around like he had forgotten something.

"Was there anything in the area he passed you in?" He asked frantically.

I thought for a second.  
"Yes! A coffee shop. I think it just closed because I still smelt a dim aroma of coffee."

I heard him whisper something to himself, though I couldn't make out what it was. Before I could say anything else he twirled around and took off, most likely in the direction of the guy he was chasing. The second guy watched him run off for a second. Then he turned to me.

"You better come with us. Trust me, things are going to get interesting." He said before running off. I turned and was about to walk to opposite way but then my curiosity took over and I took off running after the two strange men.

I caught up with the second guy quickly and we looked for the first guy. Eventually we found him, frustrated at a dead end. Obviously they didn't catch up with who they were chasing.

"Don't worry, we'll get him next time." The second guy suggested.

The first guy looked appalled for a second. "There may not BE a next time John. If he knows someone is onto him he is going to step up his game and make sure he will not be found."

"Okay, can you people PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" I shouted. I wasn't just going to be a follower now. I wanted answers and I wanted them now!

"Uh, I'm John Watson, he's Sherlock Holmes." The second guy, John Watson, said. The first guy, Sherlock Holmes, was pacing around messing with his phone and mumbling things under his breath.

"Okay, thank you John that answers the question I didn't ask about who you are, I asked what is going on. Answer the right question please this time." I snapped, flinching at my tone again. Why am I behaving so snappy? Probably because i'm tired, why did I even ask that?

"We were trying to catch a criminal who has been involved secretly with the murders of four people. Enough for you?" John said, sounding like he was a tad annoyed with me.

I just nodded and looked both of them up and down now that I finally had a light source, even if it's dim. Sherlock Holmes was wearing a long coat and a dark purple scarf. He had dark hair that was curly. Not like mega curls, well maybe a tad, but on a scale from 1-10 on the curly scale I would put him at a 7. He was also tall, and has sharp cheekbones. John Watson had short blonde hair and was a few inches shorter than his friend. He had a leather(I think) jacket on with a pair of jeans. He looked like a kind person, kinder than his friend anyway.

"So are you guys like private detectives or something?" I inquired, wanting to be out of the dark in some information.

"Not exac-" John started before Sherlock cut in.

"I'm a consulting detective, only one in the world. John follows me around and blogs about it. That's about it." Sherlock stated, only halfway paying attention to our conversation.

I approached the wall that was in front of us. I crouched and felt along the ground for anything. If someone climbed this in a hurry, maybe they dropped something. I felt along the ground some more, about to give up, when my hand hit something. I picked it up and looked at it. It was a small piece of cloth, with the initials IL on it.

"Uh Mr. Holmes, I found a thingy." I announced, standing up.

"Great. A 'thingy'. That helps. And call me Sherlock" He criticized on my speaking as he snatched the cloth out of my hand. "Ah a handkerchief. With someones initials on it." He dangled the handkerchief in front of his face examining it before shoving it in a pocket.

I yawned and blinked tiredness out of my eyes. I realized how tired I was now, after a little excitement happened. I started to feel heavy, like I was going to fall over asleep.

"Alright. Back to the flat." Sherlock said, and we headed back to the main rode. In no time he was able to flag down a taxi and we got in. I felt that I had somehow got involved in something huge without even trying.

"221b Baker Street." Sherlock stated to the taxi driver.

I didn't realize we weren't going to my flat until we had gone up to 221b.

"This isn't my flat." I mumbled sleepily and followed them in.

"I had no idea!" Sherlock said in an over exaggerated sarcastic tone. "I don't think you would make it to your flat alive, seeing how tired you are. Sleep on the couch. You can go home tomorrow."

I don't know if my grunt was audible but I still grunted and waddled over to the couch, which it took me a moment to locate the slightly worn down sofa in the flat. I collapsed onto it and went to sleep in no time.

I woke up in panic and swung my head around, wondering where I was. I took a deep breath as I remembered the events of last night. What is wrong with me? Why did I sleep at a strangers house? I'm lucky nothing bad happened.

_God Jay, stop trusting people easily._

I groaned and sat up on the uncomfortable couch, the blanket I hadn't realized was on me slugged down to the ground. I looked around their place, taking in details. Sherlock and John were having a quiet conversation at the table in between the two large windows. I yawned softly and stood up.

I was still pretty nervous. I didn't even know these people and here I was in their flat without more then thirty words spoken between us. How should I am? You know what, screw caring about what people think. I'm just going to be myself, that's better then pretending.

"Morning strangers. I'm going to raid your fridge because i'm starving," I announced walking over to their messy kitchen. The table was covered with various junk, but there was a spot where all the junk was carelessly pushed into a messy pile and a microscope was placed in the spot that was cleared out. Science geek, noted. I made my way to the short fridge.

"I wouldn't if I were you," John called out. I shrugged and opened the door.

The fridge was mostly empty, except for a gallon of milk that look very spoiled. I opened the drawers and shuffled through the couple of bags in the top one. I noticed most of the stuff was leftover takeouts that were older then the dinosaurs,at least judging by the amount of mold on them. I shut the first drawer and then looked in the second one. There was a bunch of melted ice packs that were carelessly, or lazily, put into the fridge by mistake. I poked around through them and saw a bag with red in it, no signs of mold from this distance. I pulled it out. I scrunched my eyebrows and made a disgusted face as I looked at the redish pinkish little 'meats' that were in the bat. I dropped that bag back into the drawer, disgusted.

"Uhm, are you aware that there are _tongues _in your fridge? And no, not the kind of speaking," I stuttered, almost about to puke.

"Okay enough of that!" John exclaimed and was suddenly over by me slamming the fridge door shut.

"So are you guys like some sick serial killers that take peoples tongues and am I your next victim?!" I exclaimed, trying to back away from John.

"Just experimenting. You're not in danger here, well nothing too severe," Sherlock said, uninterested. He was reading the paper, who reads the paper these days?

"Severe as in?" I asked, hoping the answer wasn't bad.

"_Not_ severe, as in I may be a little dangerous but nothing that would cause harm. Possibly to your mind if you listen to me talk to myself, and in a you can't comprehend sort of way not a scared for life sort of way, but nothing bad," He stated, going back to reading the newspaper.

This guy was crazy. And arrogant. And crazy. Did I mention crazy?

"John, look at this," Sherlock beckoned John over and tossed him the newspaper when he was within range.

John unfolded the paper, sat down on the red armchair, and read it, confusion clear on his face at what Sherlock was pointing to. "Some guy got rich and famous. Happens all the time, so what?" John inquired.

Sherlock sighed loudly and plucked the paper from his hands. "Here, you give it a try."

It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me. I walked over and he handed me the paper. I sat down in the green armchair opposite of John and read the article. I studied the picture of the guy waving in front of a bright sports car. He had shaggy blonde hair that ended a centimeter above his shoulder. He had a big nose and thin almond eyes. In the picture his eyes were a unnatural shade of blue, so he most likely is wearing contacts.

"So we found a handkerchief. Not dropped, the criminal isn't stupid enough to carry around something with his own initials, John would you like to input anything?" Sherlock started before turning to John. "And you're sitting in my chair." Sherlock glared at me until I stood up with my arms raised in a surrender apology and moved back over to the couch.

"His friend could have gave it to him and he may have hurried to climb the wall, so it fell out of his pocket?" John suggested.

"No John, it's never that simple. Never ignore something as a coincidence, because there is no such thing. Do you have anything to add?" Sherlock asked me.

"I have a name you know," I snapped at him.

"Yes, would you mind informing us of it because you haven't said a word about."

"Pringles, Royal Princess of France." I stood up and did a mock bow.

"Right, and i'm a butler," John muttered just loud enough for me to hear. I rolled my eyes.

"Doest thou insult I? Royal Princess with a right to the throne? Insult I sir, I dare you not! For thou shall bow in my presence, I needst not present me in front of thee!" I shouted, with a fake expression of being insulted.

"You're horrible with Elizabethian English," Sherlock stated, but I could just barely see a smile on his face.

"Thou has poisoned me? I shalt not live unless thee has an antidote! Sir, oh so kind, please letist me live!" I exclaimed.

"The lady is a wench, and shalnt live," Sherlock replied with a smile.

"A curse on both thy houses!" I shouted and fell down on the couch and pretended to be dead with my tongue sticking out of the side of my mouth.

Sherlock and John burst out in giggling laughter. I joined them, because I thought it was pretty funny myself.

"So, what is your name?" John asked.

"Jay, short for my full name that I hate. That handkerchief was planted at the bottom of the wall so you would think that it belonged to Ian Lawless who pulled a publicity stunt to get famous so you'd notice him and go after him but there would be a trap set up for you. They weren't trying to send you on a wild goose chase, I think they're smarter then that. I think they know that you'd look for the guy because that's just what you do. You DON'T ignore a coincidence and the criminal knows that about you," I stated, looking Sherlock in the eyes.

"See John, I told you she was smart enough to figure it out." John groaned and pulled out his wallet and handed Sherlock something.

"I'm not that smart, I just used to watch a lot of CSI." I admitted.

"It's one thing to watch it, it's another thing to put information to use. I figured it out already also, I was seeing if you were going to get it."

"Wait, so you already figured it out? You were just testing me, why?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, because I'm Sherlock Holmes. Plus you may want to relook a couple of facts." Sherlock winked, got up and walked out of the room.

John looked over at me. "He doesn't get much more modest then that."

I nodded. "I'm going to run to my flat and get a couple of things. Can I borrow a couple money?" I asked John.

"A couple money? Sure."

"Shut up, I'm new here."

John just laughed, grabbed his wallet, and got a couple money out of his wallet. I grabbed the 'couple money' from his hand. I was about to walk out the flat door, but I realized I should leave my cell number. What's the point of getting a new phone when you don't give out the number? I picked up a random piece of paper off the desk and tore a corner off. I grabbed a pen out of my pocket and scribbled my number onto the corner piece of paper. I set the number on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"There's my number, just in case you need to contact me or something," I told John, even though he had his laptop and wasn't listening to me.

I walked out the door and down the stairs, then right out the front. The bright sunlight assaulted my eyes when I threw open the front door. I put my hand up to block the sudden sunlight and blinked my eyes to adjust them. I started to walk down the sidewalk. There wasn't anybody out here, which is weird. Usually there's people walked the streets no matter where you were. Suddenly I felt something slam into the back of my head. Hard. I slumped down to my knees and was dragged into unconsciousness.

"John! Are you paying any attention at all!" Sherlock yelled as he ran into the room.

My head snapped up and my attention shifted from my computer to Sherlock.

"What?" I asked, unsure of what I had to look out for.

Sherlock was by the window. "Just come here and look!"

"Okay, fine." I set my laptop on the armchair and walked over to Sherlock. I looked out the window and saw a slim black car pull away and take off.

"You just let her _leave_ with out doing anything?!" He exclaimed.

"She was just going to her flat..."

"I told you, she wasn't going to be safe anywhere. Do you ever listen!"

Sherlock threw his coat on and wrapped his purple scarf around his neck. He was about to run out the door when he noticed a slip of paper on the table in front of the couch. He snatched it up and looked at it for a second. Then he whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He put it up to his ear.

"Lestrade I need you to track a number. ... No It's not. ... It will lead you to him. ... Don't question me! ... It doesn't matter. ... Okay here." Sherlock said the number and hung up. Then looked at me.

"Now we can only do what we can. We wait."

When I came back into a consciousness my head was throbbing. Plus I was tied up in a chair, but mind you the headache was worse. It was completely dark and the area carried a musty aroma. I wiggled my hands in the ropes, but there was no way I could get them out. I watched a lot of movies where they get out of impossible situations at the last second. Though those are fake situations staged by actors. This is real life.

"Let there be light!" A voiced exclaimed. The voice was very cold and heartless sounding, it chilled me to the bone.

Floodlights switched on and the light swarmed in the area. I closed my eyes against the sudden outburst of light, but then opened them when they adjusted. Brick dust and shards coated the ground. On the ceiling there were iron support bars, crossing in intersecting lines. There were pillars and arches covering the big room. Colorful graffiti decorated the place, but also made it feel more foreboding. Standing about fifty feet away from was a man. He had a nice suit on which a obnoxious purple tie. His hair was shaggy and blonde... wait. This man was Ian Lawless!

"Morning. How was your nap?" The cold voice made the question sound like a test.

"Good actually, good morning sunshine," I said sarcastically.

"Okay enough of the chit-chat, tell me what I want to know," He warned.

"Wow you must be thick-headed, my mind reading abilities aren't working."

"You're so funny. You know what information I want." He sounded so uncaring.

"Uhm, no i'm not. I'm just an innocent potato. Potatoes don't do anything."

"Okay, maybe you'll tell me the information at the cost of your life." He pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at my head. This guy was nuts. Like completely bonkers.

"I seriously don't know what information you're talking about!" I yelled, hoping to bring him to his senses.

"The information about Sherlock Holmes." He spoke very calmy, which scared me more.

"I don't know anything. We just met and then bam i'm here with a GUN POINTED AT MY FACE!" I screamed at him. This was too much. This was just too much.

"My people saw you three talking and acting like best buddies, so don't tell me you don't know ANYTHING." I had to admit when he raised his voice he was a lot scarier.

"Okay please put that gun down, I don't want to ruin my beautiful face."

The door burst down.

Lestrade had tracked her phone down to a factory outside London. We took off right away. I couldn't tell if Sherlock was excited or frustrated, maybe both.

The second we arrived at the factory we had to wait for the police to show up. We didn't of course. I'm starting to think Sherlock has a little bit of a sense of guilt, because he pulled Jay into this by accident and wasn't about to let her be a serial killer victim.

We were at a side door. The entire frame was rusted. There slightly pushed the door.

"Doesn't seem too stable, a solid kick should take it down. Back up." With one roundhouse kick Sherlock was able to knock down the old rusty door with one kick. The musty smell that all abandoned buildings carried attacked my nose right away. Dust was also thrown up into the air with the collapsing of the door, so the air was murky. We rushed into the factory. After clearing the dust cloud the area we were in was very bright. Jay was sitting, by the looks of it she was tied down, in a chair and there was a guy a few feet from her. They were both staring at Sherlock and I.

"Ah, how great of you to join us." The man exclaimed. Sherlock grinned, as if this was all just a game.

"Ian Lawless, the man behind the murders," Sherlock noted and walked closer.

"Well of course you would figure it out, thanks for finding me also. Makes it a little more fun," Ian sneered, just standing there.

"Or you're just trying to mock the style of my enemy," Sherlock taunted, poking at him with a verbal stick.

"What if I am? But you know Sherlock each man of mine killed a person. I organized it, I didn't kill anyone. Though i'd love the murders to be pinned on me. What a wonderful thing to be held accountable for!" Ian boasted, grinning ear to ear. "I'm glad you found the handkerchief my man left behind. I knew you would realize."

"Yes. My friend here thought it was a trap, but you're just so eager to get caught aren't you? Jail is a reward, such a stereotype serial killer. Shame, I thought you might have been a challenge for a second," Sherlock jested. "Speaking of my friend, it would be nice if we could have her back."

"Oh her. I don't need her anymore," Ian remarked. Then without any warning he picked up the arm that was dangling by his side. He pointed his gun at Jay, and before Sherlock or I could do anything he pulled the trigger. I ran towards her, but my mind screamed it was too late. The bullet hit it's mark, which was confirmed with Jay slumping over in almost slow motion. Her eyes, which were usually full of sarcasm, kindness, and life slowly drained to dim orbs. The wound on her chest leaked out blood, and the more blood that spilled out the more colour drained from her face.

I rushed over to her. I grabbed her wrist, that were still tied behind her chair, and checked for a pulse. There was a very faint one that was fleeting by the second. I sat her up. I heard her quietly fighting to breath, her chest barely rising and falling. Her eyes, which were full of life and energy earlier today, looked almost dead. Just by appearance you would think she was dead. I didn't even realize she was still conscious until she spoke.

"Was... a... final... adventure," She struggled to say, giving a faint smile. Then she took one last struggling breath and the faint rise and fall of her chest stopped completely. I reached to check her pulse again, but to no avail.

I looked over at Sherlock, who had made no move to get closer to either Ian or Jay. Sherlock rarely becomes attached to people quickly, but she was smart and very lost. He had almost picked up a big brother sort of attitude, which was the most human i've ever seen him act. Sherlock's face was still set in the same stone it was when confronting Ian for the first time, but a slight sadness seemed in it for a second. I've never seen that in him, maybe i'm just not looking close enough.

I was slightly upset myself, she was funny in the day I knew her. She was smart obviously and I felt that Sherlock should have taught her more.

My mind wandered back over to Sherlock. He was actually angry that she had gotten kidnapped. Maybe he felt responsible because he pulled her into this war by accident. Maybe he just recognized her as smart enough to talk to. I don't know what exactly inspired this sudden big brother instinct in Sherlock. I may just be overlooking it though.

"Pity, she was rather fun to talk to," Ian mourned, I was unable to tell if it was sarcasm or if he was genuinely sorry for his actions. I doubted it.

"You've put yourself in a pretty bad position with me now, and that is not a safe place to stand," Sherlock promised just as Lestrade and a police force rushed through the door.

The rest was a blur. Sherlock and I stood back as they cuffed Ian Lawless and cleaned up Jay. I wasn't sure if Sherlock felt guilty, or disappointed. Possibly both. We both eventually made it back to the flat.

"Sherlock you've been silent. Are you alright?" I questioned him.

"Perfectly fine John, I'm alway fine," Sherlock snapped and threw a little piece of paper on the table.

"Did she write that?" I asked about the paper that he had threw down.

"Most likely, found it in her pocket while they were cuffing Ian. I think she knew way more about me than she thought." With that odd statement said, Sherlock got up and walked to his room. I sighed, got up, and walked over to pick up the piece of paper. I read it.

_Even though adventures with Sherlock are fun  
Only one person can stay by him without getting hurt  
But everyone should remember when playing with fire  
That most get burned_


End file.
